Until Our Next Meeting
by The Sherlocked Phan of Bag End
Summary: On the tenth anniversary of the train crash, Susan writes each of her siblings a letter.
1. Lucy

**A/N: Hi all, thanks for taking the time to read. This is set ten years after the train crash that killed Peter, Edmund and Lucy. The letters are being written by Susan. I hope you enjoy it!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia in any way, shape or form. I make no profit from this story.**

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**1: Lucy**

My dearest Lucy,

So here we are, ten years to the day now since the train crash. I don't suppose I need to tell you that there isn't a day that passes on which I don't think of you or about how much I miss you. I wish I could have seen you grow into a woman, seen you marry and have children of your own. Sometimes I think of something funny to tell you, or something happens that I remind myself to recount to you, but then I remember. I'm never going to be able to tell you anything now.

It was your birthday last Monday. Are you pleased I remembered? When you turned seven, you got so upset because I forgot it was your birthday and didn't buy you a present. You always were funny about little things like that when you were small. This birthday wasn't a time for celebration, I know, but I did congratulate your photograph, sitting in pride of place on the mantelpiece. It sounds silly, but I couldn't help it. It wouldn't have felt right not to wish you many happy returns.

You would have been twenty-nine years old. The last photograph I have of you was taken a year after you and Ed came back from cousin Eustace's – that summer when he changed so much. I'm sure it was the good influence of you and Ed that changed him. You always were so good with people. I remember all the girls in your class at school used to be jealous, because you could talk the teacher into doing anything for you. Isn't it funny, the little things I remember about you?

I suppose no letter would be complete without mentioning our time with dear old Professor Kirke in 1940. I can't tell you how it grieved me to learn that he too was killed on that day, along with dear Eustace. I don't imagine you remember all that much of our time in the countryside (you were, after all, just eight years old), but you were always merry in those days. Being too young, I suppose, to understand the war, you always cheered me up, one way or another. The old professor took you under his wing, too; I've never met such a kind man in all my life. I suppose the two of you were well suited: you both loved people and would do anything you could to help.

And now, dear Lucy, comes the most difficult part of this letter. The main part of those days was made up, I know, from our adventures in Narnia. I am not entirely sure how to express how I feel about that time; at the time of the crash, I was certain that Narnia was just a childish fancy we all had when we were young and innocent. But in recent years, I am not so sure. Much as I try to deny it, I cannot ignore solid memories, and even small tokens I brought back. I also find it difficult to understand how two trips to another world could be completely made up by my young mind. If you had told me about these adventures, doubtless I would have dismissed them as the mere pretences of youth, but I was not all that young when we travelled there. It is my one wish, therefore, to tell you that I honestly cannot ignore these signs, and so conclude, dear Lucy, that Narnia was indeed real.

Of course, I can never speak of this to anyone. My husband (how I do wish you could have met Arthur; I think the two of you would have got on well) would not believe a word of it, and would have me in an asylum before you could say 'Jack Robinson'. I suppose this is the main reason for writing you: I wish to confess to someone. Now you are all gone, I have no one to talk to about our times in Narnia. And although I saw you grow up there, I would dearly loved to have had another adulthood all together in this world

I remember you talking about sailing to Aslan's country when you and Ed travelled aboard the _Dawn Treader_. I can only hope that somehow, the three of you are now under Aslan's protection, wherever you are. I can merely curse my own foolishness that I am not there with you. I suppose I cannot say much more to you, my dear baby sister, only that I hope you are well and happy, with or without the boys. It is my fervent wish that one day I might join you there.

Farewell for now, dear Lucy, until we meet in happier times.

Your loving sister,

Susan

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**A/N: I hope you liked this letter. All reviews would be greatly appreciated!**


	2. Edmund

******DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia in any way, shape or form. I make no profit from this story.**

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**2: Edmund**

My dear Ed,

I think yours is the hardest letter to write. I thought I would have lots to say to you, but as I sit here at my husband's desk, with Lucy's letter neatly folded in the envelope in front of me, I find myself rather lost for words. I have so much to tell you, but I cannot seem to find the right words with which to express it.

I suppose no letter would be complete without telling you how much you meant to me when you were here. I know we didn't always get on as conventional siblings, but after our stay with Professor Kirke, you were much changed and I feel I was closest to you. You could always tell if I was feeling upset, for whatever small reason, and you never failed to cheer me up. Despite your continual leaping on my bed and waking me up at five o'clock in the morning when we were teenagers, we became very close, and I'm so glad of it.

It's very hard sometimes, Ed, when things get tough. I find myself wanting to vent my feelings to you, because of how you understood me so well, and I can't. My husband doesn't understand me in the same way you did, but I can't talk to you and I can talk to him. I hope you don't mind being replaced ever so slightly in that regard, Edmund. Of course, no one can replace you, but when it comes to talking, I have to rant to somebody, else I'll go mad. I'm sure you understand.

I can see your photograph on my mantelpiece as I write. It's in the middle: just to the right of Lu's and on the left of Peter's. It's one of those pictures that Jill Pole took when she was practising for her photography course, but you're not quite looking at the camera. You're looking beyond it, at something else behind the lens, laughing. Yours is probably the most natural picture. I remember you got distracted at the last moment, just before Jill was about to take the photograph, by Peter pulling a face at you, and it made you laugh. So there's the picture: you laughing and looking at Peter, who's just out of sight of the lens. I know Jill was terribly put out to start with at you 'ruining' the picture, but then we convinced her to print it anyway. You've got your hands in your pockets and you're wearing my favourite white shirt with your braces. It's a stupid thing to keep, but I still have those braces.

Peter always used to nag you to buy a new pair, do you remember? You've had them since the second time we went to Narnia, and you wouldn't get rid of them. You always were a stubborn old thing. And now, I suppose, I shall have to tell you about my conclusions about Narnia. I expect you've already read Lucy's letter (you always have been terribly nosey), but I shall tell you again. I find myself now unable to dispute solid memories, however hard I try. Also, dear Ed (I have not written this to anyone else, so please do not share it), some peculiar things have been happening recently that I cannot seem to explain without bringing in our times in Narnia.

I am very confused, Ed, and I wish more than anything that you could be here with me. You always knew what to do in a crisis. I would tell you how much I wish to see you with your own family, but you never struck me as the marrying kind. Even when we grew up in Narnia (if, indeed, that was the case), you always made me laugh at your loathing to consider any young ladies who were interested in seeking your hand. Perhaps you would have changed by now, but who knows. A very large part of me highly doubts it.

I can almost see your face as you read this letter, although I know that's impossible. I can see you smiling your lopsided smile and laughing as I tell you about keeping your braces. You never laughed enough; we, your family, were the only people who really got to see you. I wish you would have smiled more often. You looked lovely when you did.

And now you will be telling me I am getting soppy, and I suppose I am. I wonder if you can see the dried tear marks on the paper. Much as I don't want to end this letter, there is not much left for me to say, only to bid you farewell in the same manner as Lucy. I pray Aslan's protection over the three of you.

I miss you terribly, Ed.

Forever your sister,

Susan

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**A/N: Please drop me a review!**


	3. Peter

******A/N: I hope you are all enjoying the fic.**

******DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia in any way, shape or form. I make no profit from this story.**

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**3: Peter**

Dearest Peter,

You will have to excuse me, Pete, if my hand appears a little shaky. I left your letter until the end, but writing to Lucy and Ed before you has rather taken its emotional toll and I am not in the best shape. I will, however, continue with your letter, you being you.

Every day, I wish I could ask for your advice. Sometimes it's just silly little things, like about whether you think I should make chicken or beef soup for dinner, but there have been many occasions on which I have longed to talk to you and hear what you have to say about matters, such as prior to my wedding. You will never understand how it feels to have no relatives with which to discuss the prospect of marriage, but I can assure you that it is one of the bleakest feelings in the world. Especially to not have you, my big brother, on hand to advise me…it was harsh. Sometimes I find myself wanting desperately to feel your arm around my shoulders, letting me bury my head into your chest and you to distract me for a while, and stop me worrying about everything going wrong in my life.

I can imagine you doing that to Lucy on the train. I don't like to think about the crash much, but sometimes it's hard not to. I think Lucy would have had her face in your chest and Ed would have been holding her hand tightly. Am I right?

I miss you always, Pete. I hope that wherever you are, you are safe and happy, and with the two others. Doubtless you are looking after them: you always did. Ever since Mum made you promise to look after us, so many years ago at the station before we went to Professor Kirke's, you never broke that oath. I don't know what the three of us would have done without you, particularly during the war. You were always my big brother in every sense of the word, and I would give anything to have you back.

You look classically handsome in my photograph of you. You look as though you know exactly what you are doing; looking directly into the camera and half-smiling. I'm glad I have the pictures of the three of you; it makes me feel less lonely sometimes. And the photograph of all four of us, in our school uniform at the train station, still sits in pride of place on my desk. I think you're the only one looking decent in it; the rest of us are pulling faces. But it seems to sum up our childhood together, and remind me of all the wonderful times we did have.

And now, dearest Pete, I must come on to our times in Narnia. I know you were always angry with me for denying it, so I beg you now to continue reading and not discard this letter in anger. I write to ask your forgiveness for quarrelling with you so many times about whether or not Narnia was real. As I wrote to the other two, I have begun to doubt that belief almost completely over the last few years, feeling I cannot reject solid memories as a mere childhood fancy. It was funny; my husband took me to a stables in the countryside a few weeks ago, at which they had an archery range. When he encouraged me to try, a familiarity was almost overwhelming when I picked up the bow.

Needless to say, everyone was more than a little shocked when I hit the bull's-eye first time. It was when we got home from that excursion that I began to think back to our times in Narnia, and thought about how we all used to fight. How could I have forgotten about my bow and arrow from Father Christmas? But believe me, Peter, I am not willing to accept it all as complete truth just yet. And even when I do (which I firmly believe I will do in time), what then? I have no one to talk to about it; my husband would have me put away in an asylum if I started ranting to him about tales of a magical land.

I am not sure why I have written you three these letters. Perhaps it comes from some desperate hope that you will somehow read them and come to my aid. I am terribly confused about Narnia, and am currently still sifting through my memories to try and arrange them all correctly. I think I shall begin to write them down one day soon, to get them out of my head and onto paper.

Aslan once told us that "once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen". Well, Peter, I am beginning to wish fervently for Aslan to intervene. I hope with all my heart that he is protecting you.

Farewell, dear brother, and may we meet again one day.

Ever your devoted sister,

Susan

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**A/N: All reviews appreciated!**


	4. Epilogue

**A/N: And here is the final part of the story, an epilogue. I hope you find it a fitting ending!**

******DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia in any way, shape or form. I make no profit from this story.**

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**4: Epilogue**

A glistening tear ran down Susan's face as she placed the final letter, the one addressed to Peter, gently on his grave. The three letters stood, propped up against the gravestone of each sibling, with their recipient's name carefully penned in Susan's neat, tightly looped hand.

_Lucy Pevensie_

_1931 – 1949_

_Beloved baby sister_

_Cherished always_

Blinking at the words on her sister's headstone, Susan (as she did whenever she visited the graveyard) was amazed at the insincerity these words held. But how could she have expressed just how devastated Lucy's death left her by just a few carved words on a cold piece of stone? Lucy was not cold in any sense of the word, and it made no sense to try and remember her as such.

_Edmund Pevensie_

_1928 – 1949_

_Dearest, dependable brother_

_Missed every day_

Susan squeezed her eyes shut tightly at the sight of Ed's grave. As usual, his was the hardest to look at and acknowledge, being the sibling that she probably had grown closer to. As she looked at the backs of her eyelids, she could practically hear his joking voice in her ear, laughing about the message written on his headstone. For him, though, she felt the simple statement 'Missed every day' did really sum up how she felt about her brother's absence.

_Peter Pevensie_

_1925 – 1949_

_Ever loving eldest of the Pevensies_

_Your advice is sorely missed_

A strength more than anything appeared to enter Susan as she looked at her elder brother's grave. As the last Pevensie left, she could imagine Peter's firmness at telling her to be strong and hold herself together, for all their sakes. For Peter alone, she sincerely hoped she was doing him proud.

Susan stood for a good ten minutes watching the graves and letting silent tears fall, before she felt splashes on her cheeks and looked up to see ominous-looking black clouds. Taking one last look at the graves of her siblings, kissing her forefingers and pressing them to each headstone, she turned away, turning up her collar and putting her hood up to protect herself from the driving wind.

She ran out of the cemetery and onto the pavement of the high street as a loud thundercrack sounded, startling everyone. Glancing up at the sky once more, she hurried across the street, not in time to see the bus hurtling towards her at top speed. She heard screams around her, and everything seemed to slow down. She could see the horrified look on the bus driver's face in shocking clarity, but even as she turned, the realisation dawning too late of what was about to happen, she thought she saw a clear pair of blue eyes staring tranquilly at her.

"Aslan," she whispered, as a white flash consumed everything.

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She woke to the sight of a dark blue sky consumed with stars. She had no way of knowing where she was or in what state she was in, so she merely repeated the word.

"Aslan," she said, her voice sounding hollow to your own ears. There was a silence.

"Yes, child," came a velvety voice, breaking the stillness. "I am here, as I have always been. I have been watching you recently, dearest. You started to accept me back into your life, and here I am."

"Am I…am I dead?" she said, a sense of dread and yet some relief flooding her senses.

"In your world, perhaps," came the reply, "but in my world, you are just beginning." A paw propped her upright. "Welcome home, Queen Susan the Gentle."

Tears clouded Susan's vision as the image before her came into focus. She saw greenery spreading as far as the eye could see, punctuated occasionally by the silvery flash of a river or stream. There were myriads of animals, calmly going about their everyday business. By moonlight, everything was cast in silver, beautifully illuminated.

"I've come home," she whispered, and felt Aslan's presence at her side.

"Yes, dear one," he said softly. "You have come to join your kin."

Susan turned to look deep into the Lion's eyes. "You mean…"

Aslan turned wordlessly to his right, gazing into a copse of birch trees, dancing in the moonlight. Normally, Susan would have stopped to admire the beauty, but she was staring at something beyond the trees, shrouded in silver and yet unmistakably…

"Edmund," she whispered, tears shrouding her vision. Her dark-haired brother glanced up at her, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Lucy! Peter!" he shouted, as the two fair heads came dashing in from either side of the copse.

"Su?!" the three chorused, and before they knew it, all four of them were running towards each other, catching one another in the largest hug imaginable.

Aslan watched with unblinking eyes, smiling. "Your journey begins, sons and daughters of Adam and Eve," he said quietly, slinking off into the night.

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**A/N: I hope this was a suitable ending and you all enjoyed the fic! For the final time, all reviews would be greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading :)**


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